


Stories of the Second Self: Left Alive

by John_Steiner



Series: Alter Idem [55]
Category: Urban Fantasy - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:14:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22536082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner
Summary: Out of work again, Sariel goes out for more job interviews. Just leaving from one such interview, Sariel sees a well dressed human man down-dressing an unemployed giant. Unable to walk away, Sariel gets in the human's face to make him leave the giant alone, and after decides to treat him to a meal and hear his story as a shattered combat veteran.
Series: Alter Idem [55]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618813





	Stories of the Second Self: Left Alive

Another firing and another job interview. Sariel was again between employment and just left an interview for work at a reopened law firm needing clerks. Despite being an angel, she walked so as to avoid drawing too much attention. The enamored wonder-eyed stares were more than she could stand, knowing that she was no one's guardian angel or miraculous beyond her emergent physical form.

With order restore in many cities, Cincinnati included, interstate and international trade had not yet reemerged. It was an ironically promising prospect for Sariel, who before the world flipped over on its head, had a hard time holding down work. Yet, she realized walking past a homeless giant, her lot wasn't the worst in life.

A middle aged man in a suit was busy lecturing him about being a lazy mooch. Trying mightily to ignore that and the gnawing at her conscience, Sariel stopped some score of yards away. She blew out resignation and turned around. By that time the human took to yelling at the giant who didn't even dare offer eye contact. Despite sitting in a haunch that was higher than the man stood, the giant kept his gaze squarely on the cement in front of himself, seeming aware he was lower than the smaller man berating him.

"Jesus christ, just leave him alone," Sariel snapped, as the man's voice rose to a near yell.

"I don't appreciate you using...," he managed to say, before realizing what he was talking to, "An angel and you disparage our God?"

"Whatever, just leave him be," Sariel shot back, "He's not hurting you."

"Oh?" the suited man challenged, "Me, who pays taxes that end up in his hands when he won't work?"

"I said back off!" Sariel felt her face redden, and stepped toward the man.

He backed away, as if Sariel would summon an old testament column of fire to consumed him in divine fury. Giving ground, the man crossed the street, making a car stop short of hitting him. Sariel turned her attention to the giant appearing to have no life left in him, as he sat there.

"You gonna be okay?" Sariel's tone pivoted to sympathy. "I'm sorry you had to put up with that."

"Thank you," he said, looking at her.

Then she noticed the chain on his neck. "Are those dog tags?"

"Yeah," the much defeated sounding titan of a man replied, and then looked away with sorrow on his face.

"You've probably been out here awhile," Sariel surmised, "Do you want to get something to eat?"

"I don't have money," he muttered, the sallowness of his cheeks being more obvious.

"I'll cover it," Sariel said and approached the man holding her hand out. "You seem like you could use it, and some friendship."

"Okay," he quietly accepted, and stood up without taking her hand.

Sariel walked to the nearest crosswalk where there was a diner. There was a separate outdoor dining area, a feature that become more frequent with establishments, seeing the potential gains of serving giants. She picked out a table that rose more than a foot over her head, and directed the giant to get a seat. "This looks alright. Anything you prefer?"

"Breakfast, I guess," he answered.

Sariel nodded. "I'll surprise you."

She grabbed a human-scale chair to heft up onto the other giant chair and climbed up. By that time a waiter came by.

"What'll it be?" the teenage waiter asked.

Sariel thumbed through the menu quickly for herself, and then asked, "You guys still do breakfast after noon?"

"Yeah, that's in the back," the waiter pointed.

"I'll take a cheese half-sandwich and tomato basil soup," Sariel ordered for herself, and then skimmed the breakfast page, "Also, ah, say about four of these lumberjack breakfast plates. This still a thing, extra pancakes for family breakfast orders?"

"I know it's only for one, but so long as it's four-order the manager will okay it," the waiter said. "What about drinks?"

"That's good, do that. Also, I'll just take a water, and two orange juices and two milks for him," Sariel finalized the order.

"I'll have those right out," the waiter said while picking up the menus.

"So," Sariel addressed the giant again, whose name she still didn't know. "You were in the military?"

"National Guard," he answered.

"Must've been rough then," Sariel said, thinking back on how crazy things got for a couple years. "I guess you're still struggling with all that."

"Yeah," the giant replied, his eyes focused on, or rather through the table, "Columbus, Ohio especially."

"I heard about that," Sariel recalled from what little news made it out. Some kind of back-to-nature cult burning the city."

"Yeah, they weren't the worst of it," the giant alluded, "It's after we cleared them and the other fundamentalists out that we realized what else was going on."

"You okay with talking about this?" Sariel leaned forward to look into his eyes.

"I think so, yeah," he replied, "I'm Wendell."

"Sariel," she said, offering her hand.

Wendell lightly held her small hand in two of his fingers before letting go and resuming his story, "Some intel guy identified what was going on in the city, and then they called us in. I was in a special heavy weapons squad, and we used these big twenty mil cannons as our standard issue. Anyway, we eventually got the cult to scatter. It was the night after, when shit got intense again. They came out of abandoned buildings from every direction except one."

"Who did?" Sariel asked.

"Vampires," Wendell revealed, "Apparently, they were trying to trap humans and others in the city and use them as feed stock, when the cult rose up to destroy it all. Those nightcrawlers were waitin' until someone else did their dirty work for them. I can't imagine why, with what it takes to bring them down.

"Using explosives and sewer line ambush positions, they separated our squad from the rest of the unit," Wendell explained, "Then we lost a couple guys, and that's when it just got worse. The vampires got a hold of the two cannons and started using them on us. Everyone else was dead by the time I ran. I was so scared I just dropped my weapon amid all the explosions and incoming fire."

"I can't imagine what I'd do in that," Sariel sympathized.

"Hid out in some parking garage, huddled on my hands and knees for the rest of the night," Wendell went on, "By the morning I headed back to where my guys were. They fed off all of them and took their gear. I couldn't even find my own gun. But there was this car that had been flipped over and burning. It's one of those small Volkswagons with the weddle transaxle, you know?"

"I helped my dad with cars, but never saw the inside of one of those," Sariel admitted.

Wendell gave a laugh for the first time, as he seemed to remember something. "It looked kinda like a hammer. For my size, I mean, so I ripped that bitch out and called it Mjolnir. Don't suppose you're familiar with Thor, are you?"

"I saw the movies," Sariel answered.

"No, the viking sagas," Wendell clarified, and chuckled at a memory again, "They're actually funnier, or some of them anyway. So, I went through the buildings looking for those night fucks. I felt like I was living Ragnarok, except...."

Wendell drifted off in though, prompting Sariel to implore. "Except what?"

Wendell shook his head, "In the sagas Thor actually dies killing the Midgard Serpent. I shoulda died too."

"No," Sariel whispered, "You don't want that. Your squad lives through you. You'll remember them, and you're still important."

"I was the squad leader," Wendell revealed, "Their lieutenant. I'm supposed to lead from the front and by example. They're not supposed to die while their leadership runs off and doesn't even shoot back. There is no relief in living when you know you should have died."

"You stopped the vampires who were Open Feeding," Sariel reminded, "With the hammer of the gods, no less. That's impressive."

"Coming from an angel, that means a lot," Wendell said, smiling at her.

But for the wings, it would have sounded like a bad pickup line. However, the look on his face revealed he wasn't being a lech, rather wholesome and grateful for the kindness from a stranger.

The waiter came back with a cart and a stair-stool to dole out the meals. After an uncertain pause, he rose the remaining breakfast meals to place with the first one in front of Wendell.

Sariel spent a couple hours listening to more of Wendell's service stories. By the tale, he seemed to get a tad better, though Sariel figured it would take more for his recovery.


End file.
